RP:Tea for Three
Summary: In advance of their upcoming* duel, Callamyre invites Khitt to her bigger-on-the-inside home in Vailkrin. Khitt is introduced to the vampiric woman's spatial awareness over tea and delightful cookies made by Calla's handmaiden, Ellera. Meanwhile, Lady Jemia acts as she assumes cats are meant to act, and takes it upon herself to completely invade Khitt's personal space while Calla asks personally invasive questions. As teatime comes to a close, they promise not to hold back in their fight, and make tentative plans to explore their abilities in a safe environment once the proverbial dust has settled.
* Time is wibbly-wobbly.
The Invitation
Carried by the whims of a spatial mage, an envelope made of thick golden paper finds its way to the one known as "Khitt"; after a time, of course, as the invisible courier had no idea where such an individual may reside. The flap is secured in bright viridian wax inlaid with an embellished cross, and breaking the seal reveals a tri-folded sheet of cardstock that had been dyed a rich navy-blue color, embossed in scintillating gold leaf ink with the details of a "Doctor Callamyre na Trough" and her current Vailkrin residence. Below this, the careful penmanship presents a formal invitation to tea at the above address, pending confirmation and at one's earliest convenience.
Calla's Townhouse, Vailkrin
Callamyre ; A somber black townhouse had somehow been fashioned into the narrow space between the neighboring buildings, set apart from Nightshade Avenue by a garden and a seven-foot wrought-iron fence that ends in a series of sarcelly crosses, their forks curled back quarter-way like ram's horns. The garden appeared well-loved and tended, with an assortment of plants unique to this region, as well as several others which do not seem like they ought to be able to grow in this environment. Stubbornly, they flourished up the trellises flanking the front door to support an array of innocuous-looking aubergine flowers with luminescent white-gold anthers, each bloom giving off a heady, alluring aroma that can be quite disorienting to unwelcome visitors. Directly from the ever-unlocked front gates was a pathway of smoothed black bricks in a herringbone pattern to carry patients and patrons to the quartet of steps and the front door beyond. The door was made of black-lacquered panels with a brass plaque that read, "Doctor Callamyre na Trough" and "Please leave inquiries below" with a small arrow indicating the mail slot. Above the plaque was a knocker of the same brassy sheen, molded into the shape of a peafowl's head. Each window visible from this side of the home was either blocked by the intoxicating plants or guarded by thick velvet curtains. However, this privacy did not extend to the transom above the front door, which was currently cracked open, the design of a familiar embellished white cross amidst a sea of viridian glass angled down a few degrees.
Through this veritable crack in the building's facade came the sounds of sober piano chords accompanied by a faint whoosh and a whistle, then more distinctly, heeled footsteps muted only by the stretch of carpet that ran from the door down the hall to the greenhouse at the back of the home. "No! No, not there, you'll ruin the entire mood of the room. You see— yes, you see there. That is much better, I daresay." The front parlor had been arranged with great care to receive her esteemed guest, and the woman looked in on it with satisfaction from the arched doorway, hands balled on her hips. Those same narrow hips were swathed in the velvety green and gold of her polonaise-style dress, a matching basque bodice buttoned up to a v-neck, revealing the pleated white blouse she wore underneath. Her dark brown curls were pinned half up into a plaited bun, secured through black pins, the remaining rogue ringlets tumbling freely down to the middle of her back, although she pulled a few tendrils forward, fidgeting anxiously with the way they sprung back into their coiled shapes. "They are to be here any moment," she said as if to herself, punctuating the reminder with a steeled breath. "Yes, yes, we shall, of course, be on our best behavior — and that includes you." Joining her in the modest foyer was a creature resembling an adult calico cat, who took distinct offense at the implication that she would ever /not/ be on her best behavior. Making a show of ignoring the good doctor, the feline-apparent leaped onto a small carved table alongside the front door, hiding between the curtains and the narrow windows to watch for this so-called guest with round, gold eyes.
Khitti || Since his appearance at the most recent tournament duel where he went to definitely not oggle and super secretly cheer on a certain gods-hating avian, wherein Khitt was rather unkempt-looking, he’d managed to shave properly and even iron out his black, slim-fit notch-lapel suit. Beneath said suit he wore a dark purple silk shirt that shimmered somewhat in the light of the moons, while his hair was pulled back into its usual long crimson braid, the spikier bits up top and his bangs dealt with carefully with a minty-smelling hair product, and his currently purple-tinted pince-nez glasses settled atop his nose. As he walked through the city, from the Necromancer’s Guild tower to the west side’s residential area, he took the invitation out that had been sent to him, so that he could eye the address again, before shoving it back into said pocket and carrying on. “I still don’t think going and seeing a doctor when we’re like this is a good idea. Fighting is one thing, but sitting down face-to-face with them makes me a little uncomfortable,” he muttered aloud, though his words were for Khitti. The other redhead shrugged somewhat in their shared headspace. “You’re the one in the tournament fighting her -and- you just so happen to be better at masking than I am right now, so. Just get it over with. You can always go down the road and get a nice big bottle of cinnamon whiskey as a reward when you’re done,” Khitti said. Khitt sighed, loudly. Enough so that another passerby looked in his direction with a raised brow. Eventually, he did make it to the house of the aforementioned doctor, walked through the ever-open gate, up the steps, and stopped right in front of the door. He gathered his wits, drew in a deep breath, let it out in another heavy sigh, and knocked on the door.
Callamyre ; She jumped! Of course she had. The rap at the door certainly knocked her right out of her space-minded daydreaming. Lady Jemia stared through the glass at Khitti before pawing at the glass once, twice. Then she leaped down to the narrow length of carpet and wove figure-eights around Callamyre's ankles, purring loudly. "Is it already time?" Indeed it was, a sharp side glance toward the intricately-crafted timepiece hanging on the foyer wall had informed her. Well, even if it wasn't (it was), they were here now, and it was far too late to cancel now. Yet … and yet. Poised in the foyer, still facing the parlor yet now with hands lifted into nervous fists near her diaphragm, she stared toward the door if not entirely /through/ it. What did she sense beyond the ebon-painted barrier? The details were inconceivably hard to decipher, and a curious little smile began to pull at the corner of her mouth. Blossoming into the expression further in the following beat, there was a marked gleam glittering in the gold flecks of her hazel eyes as she pulled the door inward like a dragon drawing in a deep breath. "You're here!" The greeting burst out of her ahead of that aforementioned decorum, and a warm flush settled into the freckled planes of either dimpled cheek. "Please! Please, do come in—" She stepped aside to grant Khitt entrance into the interior, which was, one could readily observe, more capacious than seemed possible from the exterior. The entryway itself was not all that much to write home about, yet with a sweep of her arm, Calla indicated the parlor, which was an expansive room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, tufted black chairs and sofas, while one-half of the room served as front reception to her business, with a large executive-style desk beyond which was a velvet wingback chair. It was in the front half of the room that Calla hoped to guide her acquaintance, for settled between the arrangement of seats were a claw-footed table and two trays of tea. "Ellera, are the cookies ready?" A waifling hovered in the doorway to the kitchen down the hall and bobbed her head. "Ready when you are, Doctor," Ellera replied. The calico cat had, by this point, pranced up to Khitt, acting on the doctor's behalf as a guide with persistent meows and a determined path toward the softer of the sofas, leaving Calla to chuckle with an excitable edginess. "Please forgive me," she suddenly found her legs again, and surged forward with purpose, "Shall I take your coat?" An awkward beat passed. "How many cookies would you like? I could swear Ellera makes the best sweets." It had, although she would scarcely confess, been very long since she'd had anyone for tea in her private home, and she'd all but forgotten how to behave. Nevertheless, the smile she offered up then was genuinely kind, if reserved.
Khitti || Khitt too jumped, as the door was thrown open and a great “You’re here!” hit him in the face like he’d been punched by someone holding a roll of silver coins. He quickly covered up his surprise as the Doctor ushered him into the house, and it was then that he noticed the bigger-on-the-inside similarities between this house and the Herzegler residence in Cenril. He couldn’t help but smirk at this, but said nothing about it for now. He allowed himself to be guided first by Callamyre herself, and then her seemingly-cat, and found himself just in front of his chosen couch as Callamyre offered to take his coat. “No, thank you. I’m quite comfortable with it on,” he said, unbuttoning the few buttons on said suit jacket, to allow him to sit comfortably without them digging into his stomach. “And hm.. Two for now, I suppose. Thank you.” He offered a rather reserved smile and a nod to both hostess and her servant with this suggestion of cookie serving. “I will say, this is the first time I’ve been formally invited to sit down with someone I’m going up against in a tournament. Well, it has happened, but it ended up being a part of the stakes with Gorehilt. Nothing before though.” As he awaited Callamyre to do whatever it was she was going to do before settling herself into her own seat, he took in the parlor more carefully now. “Also, I see we’re not the only ones that favor spatiomancy for our home.” He doesn’t elaborate on the ‘we’, as most at this point assumed he meant his feminine counterpart, but would certainly do so if asked.
Callamyre's eyes followed Khitt as Lady Jemia led him to the sofa, and a new flush settled deep into her cheeks. "Oh? Oh! Yes, well— it seemed the right thing to do. Invite you, that is to say. It made sense that we should be introduced without a million pairs of eyes fixed on us. Wouldn't you agree?" The question was at least partly rhetorical, if only for the fact that her mind jumped around until it landed on the cookies. "Cookies!" There was an appropriate bell-ding from the other room, and Ellera disappeared and reappeared with a tray of freshly-cooled-but-still-warm cookies of three flavors: lavender-almond, sugary-vanilla, and spiced clove-and-ginger. It was one of the lattermost that Calla couldn't help but pluck straight from the tray as Ellera presented them, who gave her employer a knowing smile before using a small napkin to remove them onto a painted ceramic plate for Khitt's pleasure. Meanwhile, Callamyre passed the "stolen" cookie back and forth between her hands before finally moving to a seat opposite her guest, her skirts rustling like a susurration of feathers. At this junction, Lady Jemia made herself comfortable alongside Khitt, purring like a motor of times yonder, leaving Calla to gaze on curiously before settling hazels on Khitt himself. "Spatiomancy?" She had picked up on the 'we' but it hardly seemed the time to ask. In the meantime, the scientist tilted her head to one side. "Well, it's just that— that is to say, I try not to boast of such abilities— what I mean is that it just didn't … well, what I am trying to explain is that there just wasn't the room, you see. To fit in here." Did she really fit in anywhere? Did the house? "The area tends to grow up rather than out," she observed aloud amidst her rambles. "So I had to make do with what room there was for this place." Her gold-flecked gaze stumbled around the room with quiet admiration for the space before swiveling back to Khitt. "The tea was the least I could do. I really am not much for all this … violence of the tournament. This—" Books. "Tea." Carefully unwrapping a mystery. "It is more my speed if you will." The calico curled into a tortoise-shell-and-white loaf on the cushion beside Khitt, round gold eyes narrowed into content half-saucers, and Callamyre's smile softened. "I rather think she likes you— just … don't feed her any cookies, please. I'd rather not deal with that." A gentle, amused sound came from the doctor. "Of course you are more than welcome to indulge. Two, or more. At your leisure." She paused a beat, considering her words. "Are you much of a duelist? I daresay I am in over my head with the whole charade. Tis for Frostmaw that I enrolled."
Khitti || The anxiety that radiated from Callamyre was almost endearing, as the same sort of thing often happened with Khitti on a daily basis. He thought this to himself, of course, and she responded in kind in their shared headspace with a casual flip of her middle finger at him. He resisted the smirk that threatened to appear because of it, focusing his attention on the task at hand. “Indeed. I suppose most of the others are not big talkers, and are just more interested in getting the job done, when it comes to the tournaments. Fighting those you don’t know on a personal level is generally easier to do, than it is when you’re against those you have a connection with.” He’d pick up one of the offered cookies, one of the lavender-almond ones, and take a bite of it casually. “That is something I don’t have an issue with, so you’ll excuse me, hopefully, when I go all out during our match unhindered by this.” Another bite’s taken, and this time chewed a little more thoughtfully, taking in the mild tones of both the almond and the lavender, both of which paired nicely and served to temper the rest of the sugary treat. “Amazing. It’s a wonder this combination hasn’t been made yet at Ginger Snapped.” He finished the cookie and his musing quickly before returning to the conversation as Callamyre went on to explain her use of spatiomancy and needing to “fit in”. “No no. It makes perfect sense. You should see our apartment. Kind of needed to employ that type of magic when you live in a large city like Cenril. It’s very cramped and there was no place to go but up, quite literally.” The doctor explained herself with regards to the dueling and it caused crimson brows to knit together in a mix of vague confusion and concern. “Then… why? Why are you in the tournament?” He shrugged when things were flipflopped back to him. “I am, actually. There’s bare knuckle boxing that takes place weekly in Craughmoyle. Well, there and now in Cenril, because I managed to convince the organizers of the whole thing to have half the month’s fight nights where I live, because the money would just flow like honey. And it does. The only person that’s managed to knock me out since I started is the guy that just won his match the other day in the tournament.”
Callamyre nibbled delicately on her chosen cookie, considering, as Khitt did, the topics shared between them. "Oh, yes, certainly true, I have always found it easier when there is a certain distance in … certain matters." Like Feeding, a topic she was definitely not about to dive into right now. "Nevertheless, I would much prefer to have at least made your acquaintance—" She laughed, then, a lilting, lyrical sound, and a wide grin spread into her dimpled cheeks. "Oh please, do. Go all out, that is. I should be offended if you did not. Tis my intention to put on a fun show — for charity's sake. I admit I have only recently returned to the continent and have only heard second-hand the horrors that have gripped the lands. And Frostmaw." She had always been fond of the frosty domain, a variety of wonderful memories had been stored from her time there, ages past. At Khitt's comments on the cookie's quality, Ellera practically tittered from her place near the doorway, chuffed as can be. "Ginger Snapped! Oh my word," the waifling gushed beneath her breath, a reaction which earned an equally delighted response from Callamyre. "Perhaps the recipe can be shared, although I do believe Miss Ellera adds something special to them. Love, I should think." The compliment was purely in earnest, wrapped up in affection she had for her long-time servant and some-time companion. Her gaze settled anew on Khitt, and her brows lifted. "Why? Well, for Frostmaw, of course. And I do not know … conceivably I might long for the sense of adventure," she confessed on a conspiratorial breath." As if she did not get enough of it, traveling the spheres as she did, uncovering wonders abound. "Bare-knuckle? I cannot even imagine such a sordid sport," she said, her lopsided grin renewed, at odds with the remark. "You must be quite good at it. A passion for it? Yes." Even if senseless violence seemed quite contrary to her manner, Calla understood to some degree. The things they did for money, or for the heart and soul and mind — some things could not be explained to a stranger, but the empath knew what it all meant. "Do you ever—" An idea began to take root in her labyrinthine mind. "That is to say, do you offer such services in the line of security, too, or just as a sport?" She all but interrupted herself to double back, snagged on a morsel of her endless curiosity, and perhaps a small hunch now growing into a gut feeling. "Who was it that knocked you out? I'm afraid I have not followed much of the tournament thus far, my work does keep me quite preoccupied." The good doctor paused, her smile waning only just, twitching in a corner. The tea grew cold. "Once we have maneuvered through the messy business of my elimination this week, do you suppose you'll get a proper re-match with this other person?"
Khitti || The redheaded witch couldn’t help but grin outright as the doctor told him she expected him to go all out regardless of their meeting together beforehand. “I shall make sure not to disappoint then,” he said, offering the woman a mock half-bow from his seat. “That’s certainly fair, though. Wanting to have a brief sit-down, I mean. I’m sure it’s not as out of the ordinary as it seems; it’s just never happened to me, heh.” He lets things move on as they may, offering her a tilt of his head at the mention of Frostmaw. “Indeed. Many terrible things have been going on, even in the past two years. Even now we’re still fighting with the entity known as Alithyk Caluss,” The witch rolled his eyes. He had long since been over that creature’s existence and longed to delivered a well-placed fiery punch to its insectoid face. Even moreso now that Quintessa was freed from its grasp for the time being. “Frostmaw, though it’s in shambles, will return to its former glory, I’m sure. Even moreso now with the help from the tournament’s coffers.” A side-glance was given to Ellera, as well as a smirk, “Even better than the recipe, perhaps one day, you could make them with the owner of Ginger Snapped herself. I can put in a good word for you.” Of course, he didn’t need to do that, considering Khitti was already listening in on the conversation. There had been quite a bit of ‘Why the hell didn’t I think of that?’ from her while Khitt had been eating the cookie. “That’s understandable,” he said eventually, with regards to her reasons for joining the tournament, despite not being much of a fighter. “Who knows. Maybe you’ll find you enjoy it. Then again, you might find that you don’t. It’s one of those things you won’t know unless you try, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Passion, heh. I suppose you can call it that, though I’ve been lacking in that department with regards to many things of late. And, we’re a part of many guilds that utilize our many combat skills in a variety of ways. Security can be one of them, yes. Depends on the need and who needs it. But, I do also do it for the sport. It’s a good way to get out your frustrations and the like once it’s built up.” He reached for the other cookie, this one a spiced clove-ginger and took a bite, looked down at the remains of the cookie incredulously, then shoved the rest of it into his mouth like a heathen and gobbled it up. Khitt cleared his throat awkwardly, and finally tended to his tea, which had also grown cold. The barest hints of purple flames leapt up around the sides of the teacup, reheating his cup as he reached out a hand towards her own, “May I?” Surely, her own was cold as well, and he’d reheat hers in the same manner if allowed to do so. “Cresente is his name. The avian. There was a match the other day where he beat Gorehilt, the half-orc. I’m not surprised though. I beat Gorehilt in the Vailkrin Blood Bowl, and if Cresente managed to knock me out, well…” He shrugged, further showing off his lack of surprise. “And don’t count yourself out just yet. Fate is a tricky thing to contend against and it’s not always on my side, heh.” He grimaced somewhat at his own words, as if he’d stuck a dagger in himself.
Callamyre's brows scrunched into a furrow. "Alithyk Caluss?" she repeated, dubious. Why did the name sound so familiar to her? Recognition was like grasping at a spider's web, sticking to her yet unable to be held. The woman attributed it to the time spent gone from these lands, and gave her head a slow shake, releasing a breath she'd been unaware had been held captive. At Khitt's suggestion that Ellera breaks bread, so to speak, with the very owner of Ginger Snapped, her cheeks turned a bright red, her grin toothy. "That would be an honor, Sir," she giggled, then sobered up with a drawn-in breath. "It was my mam's recipe, she'd be honored, too, rest her soul." Lady Jemia remained a rumbling loaf of contended purring throughout the polite conversation, but she now unfurled and stretched out lengthwise before reaching, carefully, toward the tray of cookies with claws outstretched, at least until Calla hissed between her teeth at the calico-furred monster. "Best. Behavior," she told the feline-apparent in a terse voice, although her face was one of knowing playfulness. She could scarcely admonish the creature, even if the said creature did push her buttons. Repeatedly. Constantly. To her wit's end. Her features shifted into that of apology for Khitt's sake as Lady Jemia feigned abrupt disinterest in the cookies and set her gold round sights on Khitt. And mewled, manipulatively. Calla sighed as a weary mother might. "Do forgive her, she knows she shan't have any of the cookies." Beat. "As for this … sport, or security. Perhaps you could give a recommendation? I am in need of one such person, as part-time support in the near future." The good doctor's demeanor shifted, as she did on the sofa, and she set the half-eaten cookie on a ceramic plate, brushing crumbs off her skirts. "Well, that is not to say I cannot take care of myself, but I have only the two hands—" Nothing to say of the magick they could inspire. "—and am always searching for the right person to fulfill a particular role." She was now being cryptic, defaulting to a healthy distance for the sake of her clientele. Or was it her own privacy she protected?
The suggestion was left suspended between them, and she smiled again, her curiosity coming to the forefront once more. "So /that/ is what I am to look forward to in combat against you?" The purple flames were eyed with open-faced intrigue, and her head leaned slightly to the side, smile twisted into one of strange wistfulness. "I believe we shall get on quite splendidly on Sunday." In the meantime, she lifted her teacup with gratitude, allowing Khitt to assume the role of re-heater and choosing, for now, not to reveal that she could have heated it herself. There was a mixture of coyness and superficial guile curling the corners of her mouth, and she thanked him earnestly for the task of the tea. "Cresente?" She allowed the name to linger on her tongue a long moment before it dawned on her. "Oh! The avian, you're right. I do believe I encountered them at the opening ceremony. Not personally, mind you— but I can see why they might stick in your mind." The empath revealed a little too much of herself in such a comment, but she didn't leave much time to ruminate over the slip. "Fate is indeed a tricky thing." Her aura shifted again, one moment longing and sad, the next affectedly polite. "I prefer to manifest my own destiny, but I know what you mean. We can tell the story we want, but sometimes we don't write it ourselves." If she were capable of such a thing, she'd never have found herself back in Lithrydel. Alas. "Thank you," she repeated, forgetting she had already voiced such a thing for the tea, and she took a sip of it. It was a blend of leaves and herbs she had gathered herself to invoke feelings of satisfaction and delight, however muted their design was after steeping. "I do not mean to impose," she started suddenly, lowering the teacup to her lap, both hands curled around it. "I just find myself dreadfully curious." She really couldn't help herself sometimes. "Is that an ability you come by naturally?" The teacup was lifted again, pointedly.
Khitti || Khitt looked between woman and cat while he was mid-bite of his third cookie, olive-green eyes bouncing back and forth between the two like he was watching a tennis match. Yes, he couldn’t not try the third kind of the offered sweets, at the very least, so as to tell Khitti what it was like. This one too served to simultaneously satisfy as well as outrage Khitti thanks to Khitt’s internal taunting about her losing her touch with her own cookies. He was surely going to hear about it later when he could put his full attention to the scolding. And so, instead of hearing his own admonishment, he watched another’s, while quickly eating this cookie too, so as to keep the cat from getting it. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, little one,” he outstretched a hand to gently pet Lady Jemia if she allowed it, letting it hover until she’d give her answer in the positive or the negative. “You do your mother’s recipe proud,” he said, his words now for Ellera, now that he’d sampled all three types. “All of them were exquisite.” He turned his attention then back to Callamyre. “Hm. Well, you could hire someone from the Warrior’s Guild. There’s certainly no shortage of people there that could suit your needs. Kasyr Azakhaer is the current leader. You could try getting in touch with him, either in person or by letter, and see if he might handpick someone for you.”
He’d reheat her tea when she allowed it, and merely smirked at her wonder at what she’d expect during the fight. “Perhaps. A bit of this, a bit of that. I suppose you’ll just have to find out then!” Things returned to the topic of the avian and Khitt couldn’t help but feel the tiniest hints of crimson displaying itself on his pale features. “Yes, he is surely something.” He coughed somewhat awkwardly and buried himself into his teacup. Yes, it was the heat from the tea that did it and totally not Khitti getting into his head and ‘shipping’ them as she called it, in her fanfiction writings. “We would prefer to manifest our own destinies as well, but so far that has not been in the cards for us.” She turned the conversation back towards his magic and he merely shrugged. “For me, yes. For Khitti, no.” There, he finally voiced the other that was a part of the ‘we’ he kept using. “It’s a rather complicated situation, I suppose. I was born with our dark magic abilities and it was thrust upon her, so to speak. That’s not the only magic we use, however. And apparently that too may be the actual hereditary one for the two of us.” While he’d originally decided to not put it on display, he summoned up a small orb of pearlescent, rainbowy light. It wobbled, here and there, as if it were made of gelatin. “We try not to use our light magic in Vailkrin much for obvious reasons.” You know, because of all the undead.
Callamyre ; Lady Jemia wanted very much to bat the cookie right out of Khitt's hand. She hissed back at Calla, mewled at Khitt, then presumed to pout in a way that was both catlike and uncannily not. Nevertheless, she was aptly distracted from her endeavor by the offer of pets, a pastime of which she had grown decidedly fond these past several weeks in this form. The calico-furred creature head-butt into the proffered palm, nudging with her small nose, sniff-sniff, head-butt again. Her purring resumed, tenfold. She then took a presumptuous stretch and found herself in Khitt's lap, disregarding any personal space, as cats are inclined to do. Observing all of this, Callamyre sighed again, even as the ghost of a smile lingered in the corner of her mouth. "Warrior's Guild, you say? Why I had not considered that." She set the teacup back on the edge of the claw-footed table and lifted a hand, pulling a sheet of paper out of thin air, so it would seem; was she flexing? Probably not. Next came a pen in the same manner, and she quickly scratched down the name 'Kasyr Azakhaer.' Indeed she knew it, from many years ago, but their paths had never properly crossed to the best of her memory. "I am very grateful for the suggestion," the doctor continued, her tone thoughtful and soft a moment. Then, the quirkiness of her smile found purchase again and she lifted her hazel eyes to her green-eyed companion. "I do look forward to learning more during the fight." For purely academic purposes, she would tell herself.
It was then that her eyes seemed to focus on Khitt anew, as though seeing him — them — for the first time. Her smile shifted. It warmed. It softened. It grew. "Aaah," the Empath mused with sudden understanding. "I see." And she did. "Tis a curious thing, two in one." The woman's head tilted to the other side, and she hesitated, before setting aside the note and taking up the tea once more for a sip. "I did wager a guess that there is far more of you—" And she meant both of the 'yous' she sensed. "—than meets the eye." And indeed meant more than just their dichotomous existence. The pearlescent orb was considered at length, and as it was, there was a flash of gold around the ring of her irises. Briefly, before being blinked away. "Of course. Obvious reasons." She wondered if he'd noticed. She wondered how much they knew. "I am going to impress upon you one more imposition if you don't mind — before I let you go." The good doctor paused. It was a great pause. Then, carefully as though wading through uncertain terrain, she asked of them, "If there is a hereditary factor involved, I should invite you to my laboratory. Another time, that is— I should like to collect a sample. With your permissions." Ah, there it was. The scientist couldn't help herself after all. She had questions. So many questions. It was any wonder they weren't bubbling forth now but tempered they were behind decorum and a general reticence to reveal too much of herself preemptively.
Khitt was taken off guard somewhat by Lady Jemia’s strange cat-like, yet not-cat-like behavior. He squinted at her as he continued petting her, that ever-present perceptiveness mixed with a healthy dose of their clairvoyance was starting to set off alarm bells of ‘hey this might not actually be a cat’. The redhead wondered to himself just what the creature might be, especially considering how sentient it was (moreso than Khitt(i)’s own tikifhlee, a massive dire-sized feline from the Shadow Plane), but thought better of it to ask during the conversation. His (and even Khitti’s at this point) fixation on the prospect of a not-cat sitting in his lap accepting pets like a cat-cat was bordering on the dissociative and only when the scientist mentioned wanting a “sample” does it wake from the shared reverie to blink several times at Callamyre. “You-what-now?” There’s a bit more blinking. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to respectfully decline that. Khitti has terrible trauma regarding literally being cut open and experimented on. Taking samples of any sort is out of the question unless it was relevant to our health in some capacity. Even our own daughter Quintessa has wanted to do the same for a few years now and it has too been declined unless absolutely necessary.” Wait, did he just call Tessa -his- kid too? Maybe he and Khitti were a little too blendy in their shared headspace today. Sure. That was definitely it. Not any sort of emotional attachment to the girl. Nope. The witch scrunched up his face a bit at the thought, then shrugged it away internally. Nope. Not gonna think about that right now. “That said, after the match is over, we could certainly demonstrate our magicks in an environment we deem safe enough. No offense or anything.” He did his best to offer the vampire an apologetic smile.
Callamyre watched with the boundless patience of someone whose bedside manner had been perfected over far more decades than she appeared to be of age. The empath's smile softened further, and she sucked in a shallow, careful breath. "I should never dream of 'taking' a sample," she assured them with a gently earnest voice. "Were you both to reconsider the proposal, it would naturally be with the implicit understanding that anything is to be freely given, in the method of your choosing." There was a sudden flush of redness to the apple of her cheeks, and she exhaled an understanding sigh through her nose, lips pressed together in a small smile. Her gaze sharpened then on Khitt, and her brows lifted a single degree. "Quintessa is your daughter?" Calla blinked. It wasn't that she would dare question the validity of the relation, but rather the name-drop itself gave her such a pause. "Please forgive me, I haven't properly met the Countess, but … it does not seem that much of a stretch to acknowledge that much has changed before my return to these lands." A diplomatic way of saying she had no idea what in the gods' names was going on in the world anymore and she really ought to change. She'd been so wrapped up in this project of hers, the mindful presence of which prompted a sideglance toward the ever-intrusive Lady Jemia. The good doctor's mouth twitched and she drew in another breath through her nose, thoughtful gaze returning to her teatime companion. "Once we have both properly recovered from our match, it would be my absolute honor to witness such a demonstration of your abilities. You pick the time and place, and I shall be delighted to attend." The spatial mage folded up the piece of paper on which she'd written the Warrior's Guild Leader's name, and it seemed to puff out of existence from her palm before the woman clasped her hands together loosely in her lap. "Speaking of the match, I truly appreciate you humoring me this little tête-à-tête. And please forgive the intrusive impositions, it would seem my brain has a habit of never ceasing its perpetual engagement with curiosity." She grinned despite herself, a dimpled girlish facade ever-present on her ageless face.